Dumb and Dumber
by MyLittleJewMonster
Summary: Doing Field work has never been something Gregory would see himself doing. But of course the world has other plans for him. Will be containing Gregstophe
1. Chapter 1

/ I'm back at it again with my new stories - oh boy!

Don't ask why or how, but I´m more or less OBSESSED with this ship now. Which is great for ya´ll fellow shippers who´s fallen into the pit of darkness. Welcome.

There will be swearing and possible alcohol mentions. You´ve been warned.

Enjoy! /

Chapter 1/Prologue

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 **Gregory´s POV**

"Yes, you incompetent moron - you need a screwdriver - know what that is? Bloody hell…."

Gregory groaned in agony as he leaned back into his couch. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, as one might at first presume. Especially if they took a small glance at his tensed facial muscles, how his eye twitched not ever so slightly. Lamentably for the young brit, this was a rather common scenario unfolding between the pals. Not a pleasing one either to say the least.

"Listen 'ere you fuck - zere has to be limits to how prepared I can be." The other side of the line gruffed back in a slightly thick accent.

"Well, pardon me then for thinking a screwdriver, which could be used as both a weapon and a stand- in for several different tools, would be a neat thing to carry along with you. I apologize for dubiety your excellent intelligence."

If it wasn't for the heavy and cringe-like sarcasm that gave off how uninterested the blond was, then his ridiculously formulation surely would.

"I zought you spoke english, not rubbish."

"Oh, you´re one to complain? You wouldn't sense the pure essence of english if it hit you in the face!" He snapped back, furious to how inept his partner in crime was being. As per usual.

 _Oh sweet sweet grief_

"Pur, il dit …"

"Oh, shut it Chris, like I don't know French." Gently massaging his temples, anybody could see that the boy needed a break. Mentally. Keeping up with this idiot was way harder than it looked.

"Only cause you 'ad eet for zree years doesn't mean you're an expert Greg." The other replied in a mocking tone or at least that's how Gregory perceived it.

"Well, the fact you've only lived here for about 7 years doesn't mean you're an expert in english cause that sure as heck is not showing."

Gregory scoffed in return, moving his attention back to his work. Basically giving the other some time to analyze his sassy comment. He wasn't always the brightest when it came to snarky comments, that was for sure.

"Oh, shut ze hell up," was the only response he got. Of course. Mole was a rather static character that was for sure.

"Well, I wish I could but, we actually have a job to get finished now. So use the screwdriver and tell me what the situation looks like, how about that?"

An agonized breath left him as the brit sipped some of his tea. By the look on the situation, it didn't seem like he was far away from having to change the refreshments to something more rough. Like vodka.

"Whatever."

Some sounds were heard from the other side, probably due to him moving the phone around. A few minutes of silence followed as the blonde was stuck with listening to his own typing. And groans of agony. As per usual. Having to deal with a french dickbag who was as stubborn as a donkey wasn't the easiest task in the world. He probably smelled like a donkey too.

"Bonjour, earth calling Gregory. I´m done." The strident noises were now replaced with something far, far worse. French.

"Oh, so you´re done? Are you sure, lad? We both know that when it comes to y-"

"What? What about when et comes to moi?"

"You´re a reckless piece of shit that never knows how to do anything in a careful and collected matter!" He snapped before chugging down some more of his vodka and wondering if he really did have some russian in his blood. Would explain a lot.

"Well listen 'ere, you fuck, I- omg…."

"What?" He furrowed his eyes, worried.

I swear if that twat has gotten himself into some trouble, he'll wish he was killed off right there when I get him…

"GET ZE HELL OFF ME NO QLWJHBJWHLDCJH mmmpff!"

"Chris?! Fuck, Chris, are you there?!" Throwing away his bottle in shock and terror, he found himself staring at the phone. Feeling utterly pathetic and useless. Not sure if he should feel bad about Chris being caught, or the fact he didn't have more vodka.

Surely was a hard choice.

Though before he could grieve more about the dilemma, the call ended and he was left by the oh so annoying dial tone. Without hesitation, he hung up. Or rather slam his phone into the table, let's be real here.

"Oh, he's SO dead!" The blonde sneered as he pushed himself up from his comfortable position.

And he wasn't talking about those who caught him.

Translation:

Pur, il dit … - Pure, he says….

Moi - me


	2. Chapter 2: A Handful

/

There was the second chapter done - and boy is it filled with stuff. Maybe even some neat stuff on the end. Am I going to spoil anything else? Nope. But one thing is for sure - it´s gay.

Enjoy^^

/

Chapter 2: A handful

Gregory´s POV

"Take computer engineering, they said. It´ll be fun, they said. Though to be fair, I doubt they knew I would end up in the hacking business either. Touche."

It was probably not the wisest move to grumble while heading towards the lair of, probably pretty deadly people. But the brit was known for being….. pretty uncareful in situations like this.

No.

 **Pathetic** was possibly the better term.

 _Ugh, field work….. it had to be field work… I just…. I can't stand it. Fucking horrifying! Well - maybe the work itself is not bad but just…. being out in the field…. with endless possibilities of ending up in dangerous situations…._

The blond shuddered at the thought. He had his reasons for this (uncanny) fear of doing field work, though thinking back to said reason was probably not the best option in this scenario.

But of course that was just what happened.

 _How many years was it ago? Five? Ten? Possibly more. The details are too foggy to make anything out of, but the situation itself… Traumatic experiences are quite… funny to look upon. So inquiring, fascinating - and bloody annoying to say at least. That a small little mistake should ruin so much is just…. utterly stupid._

 _Yeah yeah enough with this blabber, back to traumatic experiences…. hmmmmm….._

"Oh, shit!" Tripping over an oddly placed log, the blond soon found himself face first into the ground. A gurgling noise left him as he coughed up whatever dirt he´d gotten deepthroated by. "B-bloody hell-" He coughed some more, wiping away the mold from his face, so he could be able to see as well.

"Well… no, I don't have to worry about getting dirty… heh…." He chuckled sarcastically, pushing himself back onto his feet to see just how bad it was.

Oh, it was bad.

"I guess I´ll be cosplaying Chris now… neat." He groaned, brushing off what mold he could before continuing on his trek and thanking God he wasn't close to his target. Yet.

Or perhaps that wasn't such a good thing. The brit had surely used some time to hesitate, like the wuss he was inside. Couldn´t hide that fact.

Not everyone could be brave.

 _He better have a good explanation as to how he managed to get caught. He could have just god damn HUNG UP - It´s NOT my fault!...right? - Well yeah OF COURSE it´s not my fault! Ugh, bloody hell…. he´s…. he's a handful…. for sure….. dragging me into this bullshit…._

Ironically enough, the sassy brit didn't get much more time to reflect upon Christophe´s stupidity, as he felt his collar tighten hard around his neck, an unseeable force pulling him backwards. In only a few seconds, a mess of hands and ropes flooded his vision. It appeared that his scene from earlier with the dirt did in fact get some attention, and not the good kind either.

Figures.

The men moved fast, tying him up and nice and tight. And gagged, of course. Or well, that was the plan at least.

"Someone take care of this god damn boy - he´s an eyesore!" One of the presumingly bad guys growled, kicking Gregory in his gut to try and silence him. Though with a painful yelp, Greg reacted the worst way he possibly could: resisting them. Seems like hanging around The Mole could be a good thing once in awhile.

If one has a deathwish, that is.

Despite the clear difference in numbers, one against twenty-three men, Gregory still held up a fight for a good couple minutes. Until, acting just like the reckless brat he could be, Chris must be so proud - he wound up getting unfocused and later knocked out, only to be dragged away.

It didn't take long, but really, who could you blame? Gregory wasn´t an expert on field work, after all.

Twenty minutes was a new record, though.

(...)

"...and gET HERE I`M NOT DONE WITH YOU- off!" Charging, the blond aimed for the first person he saw once he finally woke up, only for the person to dodge and for the /genius/ Greg to slam into the wall.

"Who set fire to your ass, idiot? Calm ze fuck down already." The Mole stared down at the impulsive brat. Seemed like Gregory succeeded in one thing at least.

"Chris? Bloody hell what is going o- fuck don´t-" He groaned loudly once noticing where he found himself. In some sort of cell. A rather old looking one as well.

 _When being one of the biggest mafias in the area, one would assume they were richer than dad - AND that says a lot. But no, no, they don´t. Or maybe they are, but according to this "nice" place, they don't seem to just throw around the - whatever amount of money they sit on. or maybe they just don't give a shit about their prisoners. That´s an option too. Duh!_

"Oui. We're in ze same boat. You smartass." With a roll on his eyes, the brunet leaned against the wall. Letting himself fall back down onto his butt. He seemed rather… peaceful. Eyes calmly shut closed. His facial expression were relaxed. Though his body on the other hand, seemed tensed up.

"Chris?"

It speaks for itself that Gregory noticed the questionable change in behaviour to the young man. Acting calm was the last thing Chris would do, and the fact he chose to do just that - in this situation as well - that spoke for itself on just what kind of situation they found themselves in.

"What?"

The brunet glanced up with a tired look on his face. Had he been fighting?

 _-of course he had!_

"Chris…." Brushing some of his hair out of his way, which would have to go through some REAL treatment when this was all over, he scooted closer to the other boy. Scanning him carefully while seated on the cold, and wet?, floor. Possibly not the most… comfortable place to stay the night, but it didn't seem like they had much choice either. if they wanted to live, that was.

"What?!"

Greg jumped back by the sudden snap, only to fall back onto the floor and hit his head.

 **What** a klutz

Pausing for what felt like forever, the other boy stared down and the blond with a blank expression. Nothing hinting towards if he were annoyed, sad - or even happy. Just. A blank expression. The minutes passed, but it didn't seem like the scene had caused any reaction from the other. Not even a small chuckle. Only silence.

A light breeze blew past their hair and clothes, and the sound of water dripping could be heard. Beside from their breathing and movements, there was complete silence. A rather creepy one too. The cell was not made with the intention of being comfortable in any way, the floor and walls were both made from old bricks, with a few holes here and there. Though there wasn't much else to take notice of, apart from the stinging smell of of course. Just what it was? Who knew. It was difficult to distinguish what it consisted of, since it could impossibly just be /one/ scent. It could possibly be from some old food or even sacraments, but with the dim lighting it was impossible to tell.

"...Are you hurt or anything? I mean of course not the /great/ Mole would care but like…." Despite the mumbling and sarcastic tone, it was clearly the boy meant it well. Gregory was concerned, and for good reasons. Though he hoped he was mistaken.

"Hurt? Non. A few scratches here and zere but I´m fine."

"Christophe…." Gregory narrowed his eyes at the other. He knew him too well to accept an answer like that.

Looking away with a heavy sigh, the brunet slowly moved his hands down to his left foot. Gripping onto his pants, he carefully rolled it up. Twitching his eye now and then. His teeth were gritted. Slowly but surely, a rather huge graze were revealed. Colored in both red and blue, with some purple in there as well, it seemed to be anything but… delightful.

Not a word left the blond, his eyes fixated on the wound in shock. And disgust.

 _Heck it looks painful…...Like REALLY painful… ugh is that blood? Green?! IS IT INFECTED?! Shit shit shit… calm down Greg… breath… It...it can't be that bad…. - OR WELL IT WILL IF WE STAY HERE! shit shit shit shit…..But… okay okay what should I do -no -what CAN I do?! Hmm well… we need to keep the wound clean, that´s first priority. It doesn't seem to be bleeding, so that's good. But we need water, hopefully clean water - to rinse it. We could use our cloth but… that would be painful. But it could work…._

"When did this happen Chris? Or rather, how?" The brit spoke up after some grumbling, looking over the leg more closely.

"N-nozing…" The other grumped.

"I know it's not "nothing" - come on tell!"

"Fine fine! Jesus… I…. tried to get out… right? And zen….."

"And then…?" Greg rose a brow at him.

"And zen zis asshole found me and I 'ad to try and escape and he had zis gun and…" He stopped, staring down at the floor.

"And then he shot you….." He sighed, nodding. A shot wound could end up really bad, he knew that from experience. Unfortunately.

"Non - he didn´t shoot me. He aimed but missed, ze bullet hit ze floor and was deflected and zen bam - hit the wall and cut off some kind of rope and this fucking beam came falling from the roof and slammed my leg een. Hell, eet hurts…." He hissed, clenching his eyes close in pain.

Gregory winched, frowning down at the wound. "That´s… surely sounds painful-"

"WELL DUH - OF COURSE EET DOES!" Chris groaned, leaning his head back against the wall.

Shaking his head, the brit started to unbutton his shirt, only to receive a confused glance.

"...What ze hell are you doing?"

"Helping you of course." Greg replied with a roll on his eyes, taking off his shirt once he was down unbuttoning it fully, gently holding it in his arms while looking from the wound and back to the fabric.

"H… how is that going to help me?" Chris asked, keeping his glance at him.

"Well, mr smartypants - I'm going to use the clean part of my shirt to cleanse and wrap up your wound so it will stay safer and away from any dirt - and also to hopefully ease any pain." He scoffed, staring to tear up his shirt. With a rather painful look on his face too. The shirt was worth 90 dollars after all.

"Well…. you seem more dirty zan me, for once - so I'm not too sure eef zat would work… But you could try I mean…." The other mumbled.

With a snort, Gregory proceeded to do what he had stated, grabbing onto the leg to start and rub away the dirt from the wound. Pausing for a moment before actually starting to do so.

"Chris… this will be… really - REALLY painful so just… just try to don´t scream okay? Stay silent…. just… okay here we go."

Without further warning, he gripped onto the fabric and starter to rub it against the open wound. It didn't take many seconds before Chris started screaming.

As expected.

"Shit shit, I'll stop." The blond immediately stopped and let go of the leg, turning to the other with a concerned look on his face. Not due to the immense pain the other was probably going through, but due to the pain he /himself/ was going through. His ears would seriously start to bleed soon.

Though despite the fact he stopped, Chris still continued to bawl, tears streaming from his eyes as he simply didn´t seem to be able to shut himself up.

"Chris shut up… please… you just make this worse… shhhhhh…." Starting to freak out for real, he frantically looked around. His hands were far too dirty to use to cover his mouth - the same with his shirt which was… stained with blood and what not. There was only one thing left….

Gregory scooted closer with a small gulp. Coming almost all the way up to his face, barely an inch or two away from him. Closing his eyes, he moved his hand up.

And smacked him.

Though that didn't help at all, only make him growl at him in anger. Seemed like it was time for plan B.

Using the same hand, he grabbed onto his shoulder and pulled him into a, rather sudden, kiss.

The action /did/ cause the other boy to shut up. Though ending up replying to the pain by roughly grabbing onto the other´s back. Nails digging into the skin. Causing a small whine from the blond. Though, he didn't break it, or even move away.

Instead he deepened it, and pulled the other closer. Being careful to not touch the wounded leg.

Chris were the one to eventually break it, gently pushing the other back after a minute or so had passed. Eyes focusing on the other, he blinked away a few tears and moved up a hand to rub them away.

"Erhm…. sorry…" He murmured, turning away from him. "I… eet hurt like a beetch and I-"

Funny enough, when Chris finally apologizes for something, for once, Greg cut him off by pressing his lips against his. Once more. Though this time, there were no real reason for doing so. Though not like the there seemed to complain, due to the fact he happily welcomed it and put his arms, in a more friendly manner, around the other.

Or well, making out isn't a "friendly activity".

Though, their make out session didn't last for long once it was rudely interrupted by footsteps closing in. And once the scapegoat walked up to the cell after the lovebirds had broken the kiss, again, a chill went through their spine once recognizing the man.


End file.
